"You know, my father would be more than interested in knowing if your taxes are in order this season," the young woman threatens.
The slaver looks visibly perturbed, "I see. So, do you want to lead the man-bull away know or should I send him in a cart?"
"That's better. I have a cart waiting outside the market. I'll just take my purchase and go. Send the bill to my father."
Before you can react to this change of events, your manacles are removed. You're free for a moment, for a thick, iron collar with a chain leash is secured around your neck.
"Come along, now," your new "master" says, leading you away from the slave pens, the gladiator yelling at the merchant.
The two of you walk slowly through the marketplace, your legs are still shaky from your orgasmic capture. You use the time to get a better look at your buyer. She's not dressed like a stereotypical medieval noblewoman, wearing a leather jerkin and cloth pants. You guess she didn't want to wear her dress to this dirty place.
She starts talking to you, bringing you back to the present. "So. what happened to your fur? I mean, were you drenched earlier?"
You wonder what she's talking about, but then you remember the manner in which you were incapacitated. You were bound in an endless climax, expelling more semen than you thought anatomically possible. Your fur looks like you ran hair gel over your body. You explain what they did to your master.
"Oh, that's horrible. I guess we'll have to give you a bath when we get back to the manor," she replies.
A bath? "Look," you begin, "I'm not some pet. You may have bought me, but I'll never be a slave."
"You're right. You're not a slave, but you're still a minotaur in a realm that keeps slaves. You may have been human, but you need me here and I need you."
You turn your horned head to look down at her, "What do you mean? You need me?"
"Yes, I need a bodyguard, it's the fashionable thing for the young ladies to have in this town."
"Is this city that dangerous?" you ask.
"Well, not that dangerous. Here,bodyguards double as bedmates. My neighbor got an orc last month and she has been bragging about him since. With a minotaur, a smart, talking minotaur, I can show her up."
"You bought me so you could sleep with me?"
"And to serve as a status symbol," she says, eying the goods between your legs.